The Courtship
by hye-kyo
Summary: She was fairly certain they weren't anything. Especially after that. After that and she was sure what he was to her though she was uncertain of what she was to him. A collection of one-shots. JaimexBrienne
1. Begging

**The Courtship**

By hye-kyo

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**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply.

**Author's Notes: **So I realized it's high time I write some Jaime/Brienne fanfics (considering that pairing is all I think about these days). This will be a series of one-shots. This one is set some time in the future, just a quick one-shot, the setting can be anywhere.

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**Title:** Begging

**Rating: **K+

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/General

'''

He was old in years and she was not and it was odd how she would be unknowing of certain things when she had seen much of the world.

"When I say I want to kiss you I mean I want to kiss you wench," the last word he said almost as an afterthought. The word used to be a taunt but years of fighting, winter and shared body heat had lent the word an oddly comforting appeal, a reminder of what they had been through together.

"You do not," she was flushed and her eyes were an unfathomable ocean of blue, anger and disbelief. She took a step back, one arm folded in front of her—a defensive stance as if he was some enemy and he frowned.

"No need for that wench," he furrowed his brows, shame creeping into his gut. He had never felt the need to seduce a woman before (though there was only one woman who he had allowed to share his bed); women were always tripping over their skirts for him (at least before he had lost his hand, but even after there were still _so many willing_ women). "I am not asking for a fight Brienne," he said pointedly, his voice faltering a little and he winced and hoped he did not sound like he was begging. _Gods, begging! _

"Then what are you saying Jaime?" she took one more step back, her eyes trained at him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at her.

"Am I not speaking in the common tongue? What exactly is it that you do not understand?" he ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly; he never pleaded, even when he was taken captive never had he pleaded for his life, but she was making it hard for him, so _hard,_ and he was so tempted to beg, prostrate before her and beg and plead and make a fool of himself.

"You," she avoided his eyes. There was a faint blush spreading through her cheeks, one freckled and one ruined. Realization came to him suddenly, like an epiphany, and he took a step forward and then another until he had covered the ground she had left bare between them. When she tried to counter with another step back he lifted his good hand and snaked it around the small of her back. She could push him away, strong as she was but she never did. There was a storm in her eyes and waves and whirlpools but he pulled her closer to him.

"This," he gestured with a nod of his head to the two of them entwined, "Is what I mean Brienne." He traced the line of her mouth with his eyes and scrunched his nose in displeasure when she turned away, hiding her face.

"But you would not," she whispered, "Please do not…I cannot suffer another…"

Of course he knew that her insecurities run deep, he had seen it once too many, had heard men's taunts and japery; and once he enjoyed taunting and mocking her (though he still enjoyed it now if only to see her blush and be flustered). She was far too afraid of things she cannot fend off with a sword, like words and scornful looks (though sometimes she lets her sword answer for her, honor issues notwithstanding). He had not been there when the knights at Renly's camp made the bet that scarred her, far deeper than the disfigurement Biter left her. He understood that it would never be easy. Even for him. Especially for him seeing as he was as disfigured and as insecure as her.

She did not face him even as he brought his left hand to touch her cheek, his stump to replace the hand he had on her back. She did not move but there was a glistening moisture on her eyes which made him feel so stupid and so uncertain.

"Brienne," he urged closer if that was even possible, desperation lacing his voice and he sought her face, the bridge of his nose against her freckled cheek and he could smell all that she was, bravery and courage and goodness and sweetness, so sweet and he fought the urge to taste the underside of her chin with his mouth, the lobe of her ear and dip his tongue in the warmth of her mouth.

"This is hardly proper Ser," her voice was rather steady but only an attempt to hold on to the walls she built around her.

"Ser?" he frowned yet again, his mouth moving to catch the words she spilled from her mouth to his, needing to breath the air she breathed. "What is proper Brienne? They call you the Kingslayer's whore!" He steadied himself, he was getting angry. "We are beyond propriety Brienne, we are as good as one in the eyes of the Seven."

She turned her head slightly to see him, to express her bafflement and he caught her, his mouth on her chin, his good hand moving to cradle her neck.

"I am yours as you are mine. You did not wear my cloak but you are under my protection, as I am in yours, though to allay your fears I could carry you to the sept now and be done with the formalities," he whispered in her ruined cheek, his mouth brushing softly against the ruddy skin.

He tasted tears in her eyes and she tried to move away, afraid to let him see her at her weakest but he did not let her though it took all of his strength to keep her in his arms. She hissed in defiance but his mouth found hers and she stilled and grew slack against his touch. It had all the clumsiness of a first kiss and he felt like a little boy in front of her, unsure of what to do but knowing that this is what he wanted to do all his life. He was briefly reminded of his knighting in Harrenhal many years ago when he was a wide-eyed and idealistic sapling, ready to die for honor and his king. This was Brienne and not his king but he was ready to die for her all the same.

He pulled slightly as she heaved, her modest breasts pushing at his chest and he burrowed deeper into her warmth, feeling selfish and he let his hand splay on her side as he eased her against a wall. "Jaime," she whispered and her mouth moved some more but there were no more words.

"Say it wench," he nipped at her neck, "Say it and I will have a red cloak ready."

"You are proposing," she managed, her voice airy, gasping for air and she lifted a hand to forcefully wipe at a few stubborn tears.

"Obviously," he let sarcasm edge his voice and she did not miss it judging by the sharp intake of her breath. His mouth traveled down to kiss her collarbones, a tongue dipping to trace the marks left by the bear at Harrenhal. She shivered.

"Are you certain?" her voice had gained a steadiness and her hand slid to tangle in his hair. "Because if you are not—"

"Are you saying yes?" he stopped his ministrations and pulled away a little, just enough to meet her eye to eye, though the beating of her heart still echoed in his chest and he knew he could match it beat by beat.

"Well—"

"Are you?" he immediately countered, one hand on her stomach tracing lazy circles on her linen shift.

"Yes!" she breathed.

He did not know that he had held his breath until he released it. He broke into a satisfied grin. Her eyes were wide and blue and her hands had dropped from his hair to circle his shoulders and he could feel the slight humming in her body as she hissed with another sharp intake of breath. Clearing his throat, he found that he could not shake the giddiness that overcame him like he was a squire again, winning his first tourney. He pulled away quickly, moving to the door to call for any servant. He asked that a red cloak be prepared (and a blue one with the Tarth sigil he added) and the septon be alerted, the grin still plastered on his face. When the orders were made he drew back, shut the door and faced his bride.

"The cloaks are being readied my Lady," he breathed, edging nearer, his good hand itching to pull her closer. He settled between her legs, pressing his body flush against hers, feeling a ridiculous amount of smugness as she shivered some more, shy yet accommodating him. His teasing mouth traced the curve of her lower lip as he hummed, "If it pleases you my Lady, I want to kiss you again."

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**A/n: **Read and review!


	2. Games

**The courtship**

**By hye-kyo**

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**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply.

**Author's Notes:** This is AU. Not beta'd.

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**Title: **Games

**Rating: **K+

**Genre: **Romance/AU/Humor

'''

She didn't bother inviting Jaime to the little party she was having, if one can call that a party. She simply baked a little too many and decided to invite Margaery, Sansa, Loras and Renly over. They brought drinks and some snacks to go along with the cakes and played cards and some ridiculous games Renly claimed he played in college. It was all just a coincidence that the four were rather free and had been without any plans due to the sudden announcement of a company holiday. It was not supposed to be a holiday even.

She settled some more cakes on the low table and smiled as Sansa appreciatively forked a slice of her lemon cake. "This is so good!"

She mumbled a thanks and scooted over to allow Loras some space.

"You did not invite the Lannister?" Loras eyed her knowingly.

"Why would I?" she quipped almost too immediately.

"Why not?" it was Renly who spoke, "You're friends with him, aren't you?"

She frowned. She was not. Of course she was not. She had simply spent a weekend with him doing oculars because Catelyn Stark would not hand the task to simply anyone (those were her exact words) and she was simply doing her job. The merger between the Lannisters and the Starks would come very soon and to familiarize himself with the workings of the Starks Jaime asked Catelyn to provide him office space, staffed with some of her most accomplished employees and asked to handle the Bolton account. Catelyn deemed it fit to send her over to the Lannister along with the adept but cocky Hyle and an intern called Pod. Some Lannister employees came with him including Adam and Ilyn and, to her alarm, Ron who sneered and teased her the minute she walked into the room. She and Ron had a rather horrid history together and she was so glad to have moved out of college and all those memories of beer-breath and sloppy first kisses. She had high hopes when she began working for the Starks and made friends and even thought those things in college were all but a figment of her imagination. Three years with the Starks had been nothing but peace but all hopes for a happy and peaceful transition into maturity were shattered when she saw that face.

"Didn't he have Connington transferred to an auxiliary?" Renly continued, oblivious to the grimace on her face.

"The rumor was Jaime did that because that Red Ron did something bad to Brienne," Margaery arched a perfect brow. "I never did get to know what actually happened there," she looked at Brienne pointedly waiting for a response.

The truth was she never really knew why Jaime had Ron transferred. She was not in the office when the whole debacle happened and only gleaned a little from the bits Pod told her. Apparently, Ron did mention something about her which infuriated Jaime (it seemed) and then a brawl broke out in which Ron had his jaw broken (among other things) and Jaime his right hand. He was in a cast for a few weeks and Ron (after being shipped out to some branch was rumoured to have worn a neck brace for three months. Some even joked to change Red Ron for Blue and Black Ron to which she laughed silently in a bathroom cubicle). "He got on Jaime's nerves I think," she proferred, avoiding Margaery's pretty eyes.

"Really?" Sansa asked between bites. "Then what about that issue with Hyle?"

Hyle courted her for a while and at first she believed but it turned out it was some sort of a bet he did with Ron and when Ron got kicked out of the main, Hyle stopped but began courting her again saying that this time it was true (she frowned inwardly). Pod was taken with Hyle it seems and the younger boy even urged her to accept the latter. She thought him a changed man and well, he actually seemed a changed man and she was quite ready to know him better but all possibilities were cut short with the news of his sudden transfer (which she got from Pod). Catelyn told her of this that same afternoon and explained that the hard Mr. Tarly, holder of the Maidenpool accounts, personally requested for him. Jaime made a quick remark about the sudden lightness in the air that afternoon when he walked in.

"He was transferred at the request of Mr. Tarly," she said not really looking at anyone.

"Cruel," Loras remarked. He popped some chips into his mouth. "I worked with him once."

"There was another one," Renly suddenly pronounced.

Brienne scowled inwardly.

"That Hoat…the expat, what was that again? Vargo…Vargo Hoat?" Renly settled into the couch beside Loras.

Thinking about it now she wondered why she wasn't also sacked. She had beaten up that Hoat pretty badly after he broke Jaime's right hand with a case of drunk driving. They were going home after a late night and Jaime even offered to drive her home to which she refused profusely saying she had her own car and her apartment's out of the way and then suddenly there were blinding lights and Hoat's car swerved into the parking lot. Jaime pushed her out of the way but suffered the consequences. She pulled Jaime out of the wreckage and dialled for emergency. She clambered to Hoat's car and pulled the scumbag out and beat him bloody till she could not recognize his face anymore. He was drunk. The Starks had him deported immediately and there, was sent to trial. To say Jaime's hand was broken was an understatement, his bones were smashed but good thing the rescuers came immediately and first aid was made and he was put down on a stretcher. He was absent for two weeks and she piled papers on top of papers on his desk. He needed only to sign once he got back but she knew he'd probably call her to his office to have her explain each and every document so she made it that each and every file will have some abstract. But he did call her to his office once he got back and had her explain everything despite the notes. He was having therapy he said and while his right hand was out of commission she would have to feed him and drive for him. She almost asked if beating Vargo Hoat bloody was not enough that he would have to torment her so. But she didn't so she brought his food and fed him sometimes and even tied his neckties and helped him into his jackets and Pia, the secretary he brought with him, told her how domesticated it all looked. That she pointedly ignored.

"So how is he now?" Loras asked, playing footsie with Renly.

"He's better I think," Brienne muttered, sipping on a Coke, "He's still on therapy but everything is fine he said."

Margaery had a coy smile on her face, "Rumor has it (to which Loras interrupted with a "You know a lot of rumors") that his _sister_ (to this she made a knowing look) is not really his sister."

"She isn't. Everybody knows that," Sansa mumbled.

Margaery rolled her eyes. "Of course everyone does. She is his stepsister."

"Exactly," Sansa did roll her eyes. She touched Brienne's arm to which the latter gave an incredulous look.

"I mean—" Margaery matched Sansa's eye roll.

"We know what you mean Margaery," Sansa spat. "Please be a little sensitive to Brienne here."

Brienne's eyes widened, sitting up straight. "No, no it's okay. I don't know what you mean Sansa."

Margaery gave her an apologetic look, "Everyone, she denies."

"What?" Brienne almost stood up had it not been for Sansa's placating touch on her arm.

"Did he tell you about his sis—(Sansa shot Margaery a warning look) okay, stepsister, as if that would change anything. Did he tell you about his stepsister?"

He did. She could tell them that he did to be honest but if she does they would only pester her to tell them what he told her exactly and she promised not to tell but it would be too bad not to because Margaery and the others are her friends no matter how nosy they were. It was after a therapy session when he told her. He called her up and demanded she pick him up, as to why he did not elaborate much so she showed up after thirty minutes to which he scowled and complained how late she was. She could only frown then and helped him in her car and he told her to drive, just drive he said and soon they were driving into the freeway and somewhere. She had not expected a road trip and then when they chanced upon a little quaint hostel _somewhere _he told her to pull up. He decided they would be staying there for a night. They got food from a little diner over the other side of the road and then they bought some supplies from a mini grocery. By the time it was midnight she was yawning and could not keep her eyes close so they bought coffee from a vending machine and they stood in the garden of that little hostel and he told her about his stepsister. She had some sort of an inkling then already. Almost everybody has. But she was still shocked when he decided to tell her.

It broke her heart a little to discover how much he had loved his golden stepsister (the idea of her he reiterated, not her) and how much all of that love was used to use him (and that all those times his stepsister was cavorting with some other male he called Kettleback and she vaguely remembered a man with the same name coming and going with his stepsister into their office). There was something stinging in her eyes and in her chest and in her stomach by the time he finished his tale and she might have looked distressed, so distressed, because he suddenly told her she should not be sad for him. She stood then from having leaned against the little fences in the garden and stood with his back to him and quickly she swiped at the loose tears in her eyes and berated herself for feeling weak. She thanked him for telling her and told him that she hoped it had lightened his load somewhat and that she was grateful he chose to tell her and she would have broken into a whole speech of how important for her that he is happy but he only laughed and her heart broke some more. She excused herself and told him she would be driving tomorrow and that she needed some sleep if they plan to get back to the city in one piece (to this he raised his arm in cast and laughed some more).

"So did he tell you?" Renly leaned towards her.

She shook her head. "No, we ah…we don't talk much you know."

"Really?" Loras exclaimed disbelievingly and furrowed his brows.

They hadn't after that. Really. They were silent as graves during the drive back to the city. He told her to drop her off to the house he was sharing with his stepsister and the moment they pulled up in the driveway he quickly pulled out his weekend bag from the backseat and told her he'd see her in the office. Then he disappeared inside. She waited for some minutes, hoping he would come around but he didn't. So she revved the engine and drove away. By the time she reached her apartment, her eyes were red.

"So?" Margaery moved to the seat in front of her. "What are you then?"

She was fairly certain they weren't anything. Especially after that. After that and she was sure what he was to her though she was uncertain of what she was to him. She walked into the office the following Monday morning to find Pod and Pia absent. Adam and Ilyn had gone to do fieldwork Jaime said when he came from the little room they set up as a pantry holding a cup of steaming coffee. He handed her the cup and went back inside to get another. She almost wanted to feel sick and go home because she doesn't know how she would act around him with just the two of them.

"What are you then?" Sansa asked this time.

"Nothing," Brienne said, her voice broke a little and she stood up to get some water. They were anything but. They worked in silence that day until he suggested they get lunch. She told him she was not feeling well and was probably hoping he could let her leave so he walked to her table and had the back of his palm on her forehead. "You are burning up wench," he had said and pulled her to her feet. By the time she knew what was happening they were passing through the main entrance of the building, into his car, and he was driving into some uptown area. She felt like she was back in high school cutting classes and had the sense to tell him that Catelyn would be furious if she found their office empty but he only shrugged into that lazy confident way and he drove. They stopped into a building which was, once she thought about it, was just some blocks away from her own apartment if she passed through another road, and he led her up the top floor. He told her he was staying there now but the place was much too big for him. He said that with a wink and a slow grin. He unlocked the door and told her to sit down while he put something together for lunch. It was a simple fare and she could not, for the life of her, really remember what it was except that it tasted nice because his mouth was suddenly on hers, hot and pulling and she stumbled on the kitchen counter, her knees buckling and her mind spinning. His mouth was soft and gentle and hard and demanding all at once and if not for the countertop behind her she would have fallen on the floor. When her lungs threatened to collapse he pulled back, his forehead against hers and his eyes were emeralds in the darkness of his room and his touch was fire and liquid and her pulse racing like she was running for her life. Which she was.

But he soon set her down on the stool in front of the kitchen counter and gave her a flu medicine which he instructed her to down immediately. Like a fish out of water she stared at him, gasping still, her heart frantic in her rib cage but she nonetheless obeyed.

"I'm thinking of something along the line of friends with benefits," Loras said, getting her out of her reverie.

Loras could be right but what benefit would he get from her? She knew of course her shortcomings (though Sansa often told her she just needed a good hairstyle, nice makeup, and dresses, _dresses_ Margaery agreed) and in that kind of situation, she would be at the benefitting end (because he was Jaime and every girl wanted him, even Margaery at some point admitted to this). Jaime brought her to the living room where they watched some news, or where she attempted to watch some news, while he kept kissing her neck and nipping at her collarbone. When his phone rang it was Catelyn and he told her they needed to get back to the office and so they came back the way they came. Fast and without much words.

She had been occupied the whole afternoon and slipped out of the office unnoticed—he was on the phone when she said she'll be going ahead—and turned her phone off. She tried to sleep but could not for it was all she could do to not remember the kiss and her limited experiences forced her mind to keep coming back to that kiss. Jaime's kiss. And it couldn't be just a kiss anymore with the way he touched other parts of her. She slept fitfully that night.

She came late the following morning and thankfully Pod and Pia were there and Jaime was nowhere. He was with the Lannisters they said and her heart sank into her stomach when she thought of his stepsister and him together. She knew it shouldn't affect her that way. It was just one kiss (and some more) but it was just that. That evening when Pia and Pod left, Jaime came. He looked ruffled but still divinely handsome and soon he was pushing her against the couch and his mouth was tumbling into hers.

And that was last week. She didn't see him this week. There were some issues in his company they said, something to do with his cousin Joffrey and his brother Tyrion, whom he usually spoke fondly of. And today there was a sudden holiday. And she baked cakes. And invited her friends over. But not him. Because they were not friends, were they?

"So what are you?" Loras urged.

"Friends. We're friends," she finally said.

"Friends," Renly echoed but sounding so suspicious.

Brienne tried to steer the discussion away from Jaime and was successful at doing so when there was an abrupt knock on her door. They all looked at her and she shrugged, wordlessly saying she was not expecting someone else. Renly stood up and walked to the door and let out a very unbecoming gasp. They all huddled in the entryway.

There was Jaime.

"I had been trying to call you wench," he said when he spotted her, "And you didn't tell me you'd be having a party."

"It's not a party," she stammered, her face reddening.

"But you didn't invite me," he muttered, obviously hurt.

"You might be busy."

"I wasn't."

"Oh," and she frowned at all the four people cluttering the entryway. They shuffled noiselessly to the living room.

"I want to kiss you."

"What?" she gasped audibly.

"I said I want to kiss you," he closed in on her.

She took a step back. She tried to steel herself. All her life she had been pounding men who thought too little of her into the dust and all her life she had been suffering rebuke for her looks, her height, her manners. She wouldn't suffer another. "Stop Jaime. I won't play games with you."

He frowned, a crease in his forehead. "Who said I was playing games with you?"

She didn't respond but she stood her ground. "Go back to Cersei," it was out of her mouth even before she thought of it.

His frown left his face as a playful grin slowly replaced it. "You are jealous wench."

"I am not."

"Deny all you want wench," he looped an arm around her and called to the other occupants, "I'll be taking her out for tonight, please lock up when you leave."

(There were some threats from Loras and Margaery –hurt her and I'll break you other hand—and she glimpsed a grinning Sansa and a smiling Renly.)

"Jaime," she tried to squirm free but could not. She knew she could but words and wits left her.

"You should know Brienne, I do not play games," his voice lowered as he accosted her through the door, "But when I do play," he hissed, his mouth on the corner of her gaped lips, "I play for keeps."

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**A/n: **So there's another one.


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